** Cocteau Twins
MILK & KISSES
(Capitol)
Give England's
ethereal Cocteau Twins credit for at least attempting an American mainstream
breakthrough with their strong 1993 release Four-Calendar Café
(Capitol), even though it came at a time when grungy, punkish groups from
overseas were struggling to gain a foothold in the alternative nation. And give
them even more credit for abandoning that hopeless cause on the new Milk
& Kisses, a disc that makes no effort to bring the trio's gorgeously
cryptic, shimmering, heavenly dream pop down to earth. It's the effortlessness
with which the Cocteaus construct their fragile, evanescent castles in the
clouds that's always made the band so fascinating, the way Robin Guthrie's
guitar glistens and glides out of view, leaving lovely Technicolor traces of
melody lingering in the airy void, the way Liz Fraser's angelic voice conveys
its weightless rush of emotion without saying anything much at all. When Fraser
does say something concrete on the new disc -- "I feel a connection, a deep
connection, but it's not with you" ("Tishbite") -- you almost wish she hadn't.
Her nonsense syllables mean just as much, or as little, as real words.
-- Matt Ashare
(The Cocteau Twins come to Avalon with Spain this Monday, June 10.)
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